Nemesis
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: I had finally captured, and was about to kill Superman. I, Lex Luthor, would go down in history as the hero who destroyed the terrorist. "Any last words?" I asked. Slash, fluff, AU, etc. A post Smallville Lex Luthor and Clark Kent play out their fantasies
1. The Thin Line Between Love And Hate

I had done it

Based off of the beginning of an episode of Justice League of America, _Injustice for All_. Lex Luthor has captured Superman, and is about to kill him with a giant hunk of Kryptonite. So he asks the disgusting creature if he has any last words. That's pretty much where the similarities end. Slash, alternate universe, out of character, mainly because of the alternate universe stuff. Anyway, enjoy, probably got another chapter coming up.

I had done it. I had finally done it. I—Lex Luthor—criminal mastermind, and supposedly 'evil' genius had finally captured the great and powerful Superman. The alien laid quivering, and gasping for air, sprawled out on my bed. I had a hunk of Kryptonite in my hand and was going to rid the world of him, soon.

"I'll have to remind myself to destroy those sheets," I told him, angrily. "I hope you're happy. It took me two years to find fabric in that exact color." I had every right to be pissed, that disgusting creature was ruining everything I owned.

"Lex," he croaked. "Please. I—" He coughed, his alien chest rising feebly. _ Pathetic,_ I thought. _I've never seen a creature so pitiful in all my life._ I hated that he thought he had the right to speak to me in such a way, to be so informal with me. I stormed over, and punched him in the kidney—assuming he had one.

"You filthy, alien, slime," I cried, picking him up by a few loose bits of fabric on his uniform. 'You disgust me! Vile creature. Any last words before you die, traitorous scum?" I asked, dropping him, and wiping my hands on a near by napkin.

"Just one thing, well actually it's more of a request. I want you to tell me how you really feel about me. Please, Lex; I think I've earned the truth. If you're really going to just let me die, then I should be—I wanna know."

"What do I think of you? I'm surprised you don't already know my feelings, you disgusting, alien traitor. Bug, slime, filth. I hate you. I am horrified beyond belief. If I have to spend five more minutes with you I just might vomit."

"You don't really believe that do you, Lex?" I hit him again, this time in the face, hard enough to cut his lip on my ring. "Sorry, Mr. Luthor. But I'm right, aren't I? Lois—Lane—says that when someone claims to hate someone that much, it's usually a mask, because you see something in that group, or person, you see yourself in them, and you can't handle liking them, so you say you hate the person."

"Don't be disgusting," I spat, then raised my hand to slap him again. I lowered it, seeing the fear in his tired, sad eyes. "Maybe I should slit your throat, save myself the trouble of having to sit here and listen to your nonsense." He tried to sit up, but was so dizzy it made him fall down. Superman hit his head on the wooden frame.

"Oomph," he grunted, pushing himself into a position where he was able to look me in the eyes. Lex, I feel the same way about you. I have wanted you from the day we met. Do you remember that day on the bridge," he gasped, starting to choke, clutching his stomach. "You were so beautiful, so perfect…I never felt that way before. I kept doing CPR because I knew I'd never love anyone if you died, if I couldn't have you."

"Clark?" I whispered, half terrified. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could that doe-eyed, farm boy be the same vile creature kneeling in front of me, begging for his pathetic life. All those nights in Smallville where I'd laid in bed, fantasizing about fucking him, guiding his mouth to my cock, while staring down at his angelic little face, watching—imagining the look in his eyes when he came out to me—and when I thought about what I had done, how my body had reacted, of all the times I'd stuck my hand down my pajama bottoms and masturbated to the teenage beauty. It was perhaps the most disturbing thing I had ever experienced. "My God," was all I could say.

"Lex," he whimpered. "Please, please, put the Kryptonite away. You have to. You have to, or I'm gonna die. Lex, I love you," he sobbed. I thought about kicking him, when I saw that look in his eyes, the one he used to get when we were kids in Smallville, and I was disappointing him. Back then, I was willing to do anything to keep him from making that face at me. Even now it hurt just as much.

"What could you possibly know about love," I roared. "I hate you. I can't—I'm sorry, but—what am I apologizing for?' I went looking through my desk, for my gun. "I'll just—I'm going to kill you now, and that'll be the end of this."

"Lex, no," he begged, lunging for me, and falling to the ground. He lay there, weakly, his breathing labored. "Please, I'm still—that is, I don't wanna die a virgin," he admitted, sounding small and pathetic.

"So now on top of being a lousy, no good, filthy traitor, and a scum-sucking bottom feeder, you're a liar too?" I shirked. This was too much. The begging thing was weak, but it served a purpose. The lying, however, well that was just plain stupid.

"I'm not lying, Lex—Um Luthor. I'm sorry, but I hafta tell you—I wasn't. I didn't. I've never been with anybody. I mean I—well that's just it. You're the only person I ever really cared about. When we stopped being friends…"

"You lived with Lana for years," I reminded him, turning away. "This is tedious Clark. How much longer do you think it's going to take?"

"Yeah, we lived together, but I never actually…I was so scared that I might hurt her and the only time she was—okay to, you know, she went sort of nuts before we had the chance to actually do anything. She wanted to try again later, but I couldn't I was scared I might hurt her so I didn't…I never—"

"Oh well, that explains everything," I mocked. Clark looked up at me with a _please pity me_ expression on his face. "Even if I believed you, nothing has changed. If I let you have your filthy way with me, I'll be ripped in half."

"No, Lex you misunderstood. I want you to make love to me," he explained, reaching up to try and stroke the side of my face. I slapped his arm away as quickly as I possibly could. "Please. Please, I'm gonna die; just give me one last thing. Please, I love you—and you still care about. You still want me. I can see it in your face." I didn't want to admit it, but the alien scumbag had a point. I had always wanted him—that's why I went out with Lana, and tricked her into marrying me. I thought it was the closet I'd ever get to him. I tried to stand there, glaring at him for as long as I could, but finally I gave in.

"Alright, but no complaining about—don't tell me—don't cry or do anything stupid, got it? And if you think you can force me into letting you go during some post coital trance, it's not going to happen, no matter how good you are, and seeing as this is your first time, I doubt you're going to be very good."

Slowly, I removed my own clothing, folding it into a neat pile, and turned around just in time to find him unzipping his uniform, right behind his cape. The thing was practically invisible, and I had always wondered how he got in and out of the thing. After that, I grabbed the guy, and pushed him backwards towards the bed, knocking him down, rolling him over, and starting to suck on his neck. I reached forward, feeling for his hips, and I grabbed them, stabilizing him with one hand, while pushing a finger into his ass with the other.

"You don't have to do that. I'm not. You're not going to hurt me," he explained, turning his head around so I could look him in the eyes. "Nothing can hurt me, not unless you've got Kryptonite lubricant."

"I'm not worried about you. I just don't want to be found with my—I don't wish to be discovered with a part of my body stuck inside of a dead alien's body," I spat, angrily, or at least trying to sound angry.

"That won't happen, I promise."

"What if I don't believe your promises?" I asked, baring my teeth, and turning his face away. "Don't look at me. You have an incredible body, and could almost past for human, but...you aren't. You stand for everything I'm against," I explained, sliding my cock into him. A perfect fit. I was actually sort of surprised. It seemed so right, so good, and yet we had been fighting for such a long time. Clark and I rocked, and fucked, and kissed, and touched each other for hours. It was amazing. I felt great. Afterwards, he lay curled at my side, his face pressed into my chest, arms wrapped around me, and Clark looked up smiling. "You were right, this was fun," I told him, running my fingers through his hair. "Now I'm gonna get up and put the blue Kryptonite away."

"Wait," he called out, grabbing my hand, and pulling me back close to him. "This isn't he same as the regular stuff. It doesn't hurt, just makes me normal. I wanna do the—I wanna try it again, and I want you not to be so nice to me."

"I called you names; I hit you, and—the whole world thinks that I'm trying to kill you. They don't know that I haven't got Kryptonite in my ring; it's the emerald you gave me when we got married. We—I…what do you—how am I supposed to be meaner?"

"I think you should be the one to bring up the sex thing…like a bargaining tool, or something. I would really like for. I would like it if—don't be afraid to be rough with me."

"You want me to hold you down and…" I wasn't even sure how to respond to that. I mean, think about it. I loved him. We had been best friends, lovers, everything to each other for years and—I…loved him. "Clark, I'm not so sure about this anymore." He leaned over and kissed the top of my head.

"Lois says," he started. I didn't have to say the words _oh great, here it comes_, he knew I was thinking it. "Don't roll your eyes at me. Aw, Lex, come on. You said we could do anything I wanted, and this is my fantasy!" he wined. I took a deep breath, and sighed. "Please Lex, you're not hurting me. It's just pretend. When you first started talking about aliens and meteor freaks, I was terrified 'cuz I didn't know what you would do to me if you found out about my secret, but I was also excited, sort of, because I thought I could maybe change your mind, maybe make you like me again. And I guess the idea built up in my mind for so long that I couldn't stop thinking about—I wanna do it. I want us to act like—you captured Superman, and tried to kill me. Then, we—then I convince you to fuck me as my last request, before I die…or you make me do it with you in exchange for my life."

"So it's a forceful sort of fantasy?' I asked, trying to figure out what he wanted. This was confusing, and terrifying, and exciting. "I just—I'm not a bad guy. I just pretend to be one so you don't spend all your time pulling kitties out of trees and capturing cat burglars."

"I prevented Krypton's most evil villain from destroying the Earth! I saved Airforce-1! I do lots of stuff; you're not the only villain I know. What about Bizzaro and Brainiac?" Even though we were fighting I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, you have done a lot of things, and you've saved Lois so many times that she probably owes you her Pulitzer, assuming she ever wins one…" So I hugged him, and pushed him down on the bed, kissing his neck, shoulders, chest, nipples, stomach, hips, pelvis, and then his cock.

"Why can't we just use the blue Kryptonite to make you normal so you are able to make love to me without ripping my body apart?" I pushed, lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He made face. "Alright, alright, put the suit back on. We'll start again from the beginning, but um. Maybe we should wait a few minutes, put the rock away for a while, make you okay."

"I'm fine. This doesn't hurt. It would be one thing if we were using regular meteor rocks. Those things hurt me. They make me sick. The blue stuff just makes me normal. And I like being normal. I don't hafta worry about hurting people just from touching them, or people figuring out that I'm from another planet or any of that stuff.

"Okay," I agreed, nodding and kissing his hair. "Take two." I stood up and walked over to the other side of the room, while Clark pulled on his uniform, and sprawled himself out on the bed, trying to look weak, pained, like he was dying. "I can't believe I'm finally going to do it. Lex Luthor will go down in history as the almighty hero who defeated the evil terrorist formerly known as Superman," I crowed.

"Lex, please. Don't do this," he gasped, trying to pull his body up so he could look me in the eyes. I watched as his pathetic, frail body, covered in an eerie glow from the Kryptonite fell back down on my bed.

"You have no right to speak to me in that manner, you disgusting, alien filth! How dare you presume to know me well enough to call me by my first name?" I stormed across the room, and punched him hard in the gut. Superman fell back on my bed. "You disgust me, vile creature," I screamed, lifting him up by the lose fabric of his uniform, near his neck, and spat in his face. "Any last requests?" The alien leaned his head back, turning his face up at me, eyes half opened, face contorted in pain. I dropped him onto the bed, and walked across the room to wipe my hands on a napkin.

"Lex, Mr. Luthor, I love you," he gasped, weakly. I was horrified, disgusted, and—I hated to admit it—a tiny bit turned on. "And I—I'll do whatever you want. Please, just don't, kill me. You'll never forgive yourself. Lex—I'll—do—anything."

"Anything?" I asked, turning away to face the window. I didn't want him to look at me. I didn't want him to see that my pants were suddenly too tight. "Take off the costume," I ordered, turning back around so he could watch me get naked, maybe even scare him a little. The creature obliged, slowly pulling his costume off, and leaving it in a pile on the bed. "Get up on your hands and knees." He tried to turn over, shaking. "Now!" He did it, and I climbed up on the mattress behind him. I grabbed his hips, holding him still, and wrapped my hands around my stiff cock, slamming it inside of him.

He was the most comfortable fuck I'd ever had, all soft, and tight, and pink, a perfect fit. Most of the women, and men I'd dated had been through the process dozens of times. I hadn't slept with a virgin since I was 12. After that, they were all pretty much sluts, even if I wasn't paying them, and I could always tell. With 'Superman,' it was like my first time, only I was good enough at it, and knew enough about sex to appreciate it. I pumped into his tight little ass, over and over, fucking him hard, and slowly all of my rage, and anger, and hatred started to sweat off, melting away almost magically. I came harder than ever before in my life and collapsed on the bed, as his quivering manhood sprayed out an explosion of hot, white liquid. I wrapped my arms around his fragile, body, and pulled him in close to me.

As I looked into his dying eyes, a sudden realization flooded into my brain. "Clark? You…oh my God. No, you can't die. Don't go, shhh, look. I'll put the rock away, and everything is gonna be fine. I've seen you…as soon as you're away from the Kryptonite, your body is fine. It'll be alright. We can be together. We can be happy." He nodded, and I stood up, tossing the rock into a little lead box, and putting it in the closet. Then, I ran back over to the bed and threw my arms around us, and the two of us fell into the sheets, kissing, touching, and rubbing up against each other. I came again, the two of us just messing around like that. Or maybe it was because I was still turned on from the role-playing, fantasy thing.

"I was right, wasn't I? It's amazing Lex, I don't think I've ever seen you so…satisfied." I kissed his moth, over and over and over. "Okay, next time it'll be your turn; we can do whatever you want. Your greatest, best fantasy."

"But this is it, right here," I explained, hugging and holding him as close to me as possible. "I love you, Clark. I like making love to you, fucking you, feeling your lips on my dick, tasting your cum, everything. I mean, of course I used to have this—I used to imagine, when you were in high school, that you would come to me, confess that you were confused, sexually, tell me about the crush you had on me, and beg me to…take your virginity," I whispered, kissing his hair. "But, this is. We can't—we haven't. I already have you. I already took that."

"Well, you know—I could probably go again, but—I dunno. You probably don't wanna do two role-plays in one afternoon. And Lex, I used to dream about you, jack off to you every day. I was just so scared you'd think I was some sort of a pervert," he admitted. I rubbed his back gently, kissing his face, and holding him more tightly. _That tends to happen when you grow up in Bumblefuck Kansas; you don't realize that being gay is completely normal, almost everywhere else in the world. It's sort of like being left handed. _ I would have said all those things, only I'd already told him. I whispered over and over in his ear how sorry I was for what he went through, for his pain, and fear, and confusion.

"I thought _I_ was a freak, and half the guys at my school were fucking in the bathrooms, can't even imagine what it was like in a small town. I'm sorry, Clark. No one should have to go through that. And it's not that I don't want you or can't do it again; I just think…I'm just happy to lay here and hold you until morning. We can do the whole teenage Clark Kent comes out to his older, more worldly friend for a hot make out and fucking session. I'll even tell you exactly how I pictured it so we can do things perfectly. Okay" I asked, gently mussing up his hair. "Can you put the uniform back on? I don't know how to explain it, exactly, but something about that costume—and it's not the spandex—it's just so sexy."

"That's what Lois says, though—I think for her it _is_ the spandex, maybe. Back in Smallville, she used to tell that me she had a thing for guys in uniforms, cops, firefighters, whatever. So maybe I'm just another—at least in her mind—notch on her belt."

"Well that's great for her, but I don't have a thing for uniforms, superheros on the other hand….I don't know. In high school, and junior high, I used to read my comic books over and over and over. They became so engrained in my personality it's only natural that some of the stuff found it's way into part of my sexuality. I just….but I wasn't into the hero's hot girlfriend." Clark wrapped his arms around me, holding my body close to him.

"That's okay," he explained, kissing the top of my head. "I love you, and you did manage to nail the world's biggest, most famous, most loved superhero, and not his girlfriend. He doesn't even have a girlfriend, because I don't want one. I just want you."


	2. Boys Will Be Boys

I was sitting in my office, in the mansion, my laptop open, and turned on, although, I wasn;t doing anything at all

AN: there's some AU stuff in here, and I added a little bit of Clark/Whitney. Just warning you.

I was sitting in my office, with my laptop open and turned on, although I wasn't doing anything at all. Clark had called the previous night at 10:30, and begged me to let him come by so we could talk. I saw his name on caller ID and picked up instantly, trying desperately not to sound like I was hard, and lonely, and well…desperate.

"Hey, Lex, sorry for calling you so late," he said, in that sweet, adorable, teenage boy voice. "But, um, I really, really, really, need to talk to you about something." I tried my very best not to laugh.

"Only in Smallville would 10:30 be considered late," I was unable to prevent myself from saying. "Sorry, yeah, it's not a problem. I'll be here all day, so just stop by whenever." I had been reading something when he called—a memo from my father—but by the time I hung up, I was on the verge of exploding in my pants, and couldn't stop thinking about the night I'd found him in that field, all but naked, calling out my name, moaning, all shiny, and perfect in the moonlight. When I got him off the thing, and he was laying in the dirt, I thought about fucking him right there, but then he opened his eyes and mouthed the words, _help me_, and so I picked him up, drove him home, let him borrow some clothes—not that they really fit, but it was better than nothing—and handed the kid a hot cup of tea. He drank it and we talked about nothing until he felt like going home.

After that, I had plenty of material for my fantasies, but last night I masturbated three times, and still didn't feel any better. Knowing I'd never get to sleep on my own, I swallowed a couple Ambien, climbed into bed, and spent the night dreaming that Clark and me—as kids—were playing hide and seek in a cornfield, fireballs whizzing across the sky, my father's voice calling out to me. "We should probably go back," I said, tugging on his hand, but Clark pulled away.

"No, I have something I hafta show you," he insisted, lifting up his t-shirt, and spreading his skinny arms out. The skin of his chest was translucent; I could see all the way through to his heart. The red, pumping thing—that looked nothing like a Valentine—had to be twice as big as a normal heart, and it was glowing, bright golden light pouring out of him. It was amazing. It was beautiful. It was perfect. _This is heaven, _I thought. _I never want to leave. "_I had to show you, because it always does that when we're together," he whispered, reaching out to stroke the side of my face. "Every time I even think about you, my heart glows and gets bigger and bigger, and I feel so good. It's all warm and fuzzy, and happy. I think I love you, Lex."

"Oh, Clark," I cried, ripping my own shirt off as well. My skin was like his skin, and my heart was like his heart. It was big, and warm, and full of sunshine. "I love you too." Then he grabbed me, pulling us in close together. Our chests were touching, hearts closer than closer, glowing and glowing, beating together, one gigantic, strong, love-filled heart.

"I think I'm gonna explode," he said, pronouncing the words as if it were spelled with an s and not an x. "But it doesn't hurt or anything. It's good. I think—I think we're supposed to be like this, forever." I nodded, and the light got bigger, and bigger, enveloping us in its warm, heavenly goodness. I woke up all wet and sticky, for the first time since I was thirteen, climbed out of bed, took a cold shower, pulled the sheets from my bed, stuffed them into the laundry, got dressed, and went downstairs. I drank a pot of coffee, even though I was beyond nervous, ate breakfast, and got ready for the day. I tried to focus on some work stuff, the memo my father had sent me yesterday, but it was pointless. I wanted—nay needed—Clark, and the minute he walked through the door I was going to throw him down on the sofa, and fuck his farm boy brains out. This is what I told myself every time we got together, but I was a coward, and would never do it.

"Lex, we need to talk. I have. There's something I have got to tell you," he confessed, moving into my room, shuffling forward nervously. "I have a—uh—well I, um. I have this friend, but" He sighed. I smiled, knowingly.

"But you really like this person and are wondering what it would be like to be more than just friends with them?" He nodded, but gave me an odd look as if to say, _how could you possibly know that?_ "Is this person dating someone?" I asked, carefully avoiding feminine adjectives, even though I was fairly certain that this was all about a girl.

"Well, the truth is, I don't actually know," he admitted. "I've seen my friend with somebody else. They were a date, I think, but…I haven't seen the other person since then, and—my friend doesn't mention anybody special."

"Well then it sounds like they are single, and since that's the case, I'd recommend you tell your friend how you feel. It's tough, I know. Rejection sucks, and we're all afraid of it, but there's always that chance that they feel the same way, and aren't really sure what to tell you." I hated myself in that moment. How could I expect him to do the exact same thing I was terrified of myself? But, of course, if I told Clark how I felt, Jonathan Kent would blow my brains out, whereas, if he told Lana he loved her, it would hurt for a while if things didn't work out, but he'd get over it, and if it did…

"But it's not—normal. I'm not normal." There was real terror in the poor kid's voice. I couldn't remember the last time I had been as scared as him, not about something that didn't involve someone trying to kill me, anyway.

"Clark, I know it feels that way right now, but trust me, everybody goes through this. We all feel like weirdoes in those awkward teenage years, but…well, uh, here's the thing. It's perfectly normal. Nothing bad will happen to you, the dreams are just part of growing up, and it is okay to, um—how do I put this delicately? It's okay to—you know, touch—yourself…to um, you know…" Clark blushed, and cut me off.

"No, Lex, this isn't about _that_. I know what you're talking about, but I didn't, I don't—my dad already told me about those things, but my. Um—you see. I don't really like Lana. I just used her as an excuse so we—so I could talk to you about stuff I couldn't tell anybody else. I um. I don't like Lana, because…I don't I like girls. I'm sorry, I know it's really weird, but I figured that since you're from a big city, you might have at least met somebody like that before. I used to be able to talk to—I used to have someone to talk to, but he left, and now…well nobody else in Smallville is like me." I sighed, running a hand over my head. _This poor kid,_ I thought. _He really thinks that being gay is an abnormality, that there's something wrong with him._ He saw the look in my eyes, and must have mistaken it for anger or disgust, and started to cry. "I'll never bother you again. Sorry." I stood up, raced over, and hugged him, holding his body as close to mine as I could. I wanted to show him that it _was _okay, and that he was too.

"Hey, relax, it's alright. There's nothing wrong with you, or your feelings. Being gay is just—lots of people are like you. Listen to me, it's okay. You're normal; I promise. I think I know more gay people than straight ones, at least before I moved to Smallville anyway."

"But what if he doesn't like me, or worse, he decides to tell everybody I'm a—everyone hates fags," he sobbed. I wanted to cry. This was more painful than when I realized I was gay.

"No, they don't, and if your friend doesn't like you back then he doesn't deserve anybody as sweet and funny and smart and beautiful as you, alright?" He shrugged. "Say it," I ordered.

"Okay," he whispered, pressing his face into my shoulder, crying hysterically. I felt his tears soaking through my shirt, and tried to touch his back without doing anything that might weird him out. "I like you." I smiled, and wrapped my arms around him tightly. He closed his eyes, sniffling.

"I like you too, Clark. You're my best friend. Well, uh, then again, you're pretty much my only friend." He started to cry even harder, grabbing a hold of my arm so tightly that I was afraid I might get hurt. "Are you okay?"

"No, you don't get it. I _like_ you, Lex. You're the 'friend' I was talking about," he confessed between sobs. "I never should have said anything. I just knew that this was gonna happen. I'll go now. I'm sorry."

"Clark, please, please don't go," I begged, grabbing a hold of him again, pulling his body in close to me. "Clark, it's okay. It's okay. I like you too. I _like_ you too, all right?" I asked, kissing his hair. "I didn't say anything before, because I was afraid that you wouldn't understand. Just like you said, there aren't exactly a lot of open-minded people around."

"You really like me?" he asked, lifting his head from my shirt for the first time in almost twenty minutes. He looked up into my eyes carefully. I nodded. "Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"No, of course not," I chuckled. "Actually Clark, I love you, and I have ever since the day we first met." He kissed me, sloppily, but not terribly. It was as if he hadn't done very much kissing ever before in his life. I led, sticking my lips over his, pushing them open, slipping my tongue inside, wrapping it around his, and showing him what to do. Clark got hard, and impatient, grunting, and grinding into my leg roughly.

"We have to go upstairs, if you wanna do something, but if you and I—I don't…um, what do you wanna do? Um that is—I guess I'm asking, I know that this is your first time and everything, so you probably don't even—"

"Lex, you're not the only person I ever…I sort of knew that I was this way, before, 'cuz I had this huge crush on Whitney, the football player, and we sort of—we didn't…you know, but I don't know exactly what that would have made us," he explained, tugging at his collar nervously. "He and I did this thing with our," he whispered the next word, blushing slightly. "Cocks, and our hands. I touched him and he touched me. I really liked it, and he showed me this movie; it had two guys in it and one of them put his—I… This is kind of embarrassing," he admitted, blushing, again.

"Did you do what the guys in the movie were doing?" I asked, worrying, wondering how I could ever sleep with somebody six years my junior, who was scared out of his mind just talking about this, and had no idea what he was doing. _He's just a kid, _I thought. _He isn't old enough to drive yet. Just break his heart and tell him it was all a lie; you don't like him. In the end it's safer, especially for him. _I was about to say something, but Clark dropped to his knees, and kissed my pants. "I looked up a lot of those movies, on my computer, and in a lot of them, the guys do this…to each other."

"Are you sure you want to try?" Part of me seemed thrilled, excited, and horny, but I also felt a remarkable amount of guilt. I knew he wasn't completely ready. He wasn't like me. I lost my virginity at 12, and by the time I was his age, had given blowjobs to half a dozen guys at Excelsior Prep. "You never answered my question from before. What did Whitney do to you?" Clark shook his head desperately, and unzipped my pants, sliding them down slowly. "Stop it, Clark."

"In the back of the truck, on the way to the cornfield, Whitney and I made out. He unzipped his pants, and pushed my head down, towards it. He had a hard on, but I was really sick, so I couldn't—I was pissed at him, and scared. So, after what they did, we didn't talk for weeks. Then, he came by the farm one day, and we went up to the loft together, and Whitney kept saying how sorry he was, begging me to forgive him. I said, I would, but only if he told me why he let them do that."

"Let me guess, he told them you were gay, and they freaked out. So, he refused to tell them that he was too, and when they decided to hurt you. This was the least damaging, least fatal thing he could make them agree to?" I wished I had been the on to kill the stupid punk myself. I massaged his shoulders, pulling him back up onto his feet.

"They were gonna take turns—with me. I don't know why they would of done that, but I—he said that sometimes people think they can—'fuck it out of you' those were his words. Anyway, he said he wasn't going to let that happen, and I said, 'so you didn't want me?' He took me into his arms, and kissed me over and over, and then he, made love to me right there on the couch. But it was over so fast, and he…we. He joined the Marines right after that, and I never saw him again. But, to be honest, I didn't really like him that much. He knew I had the biggest crush on you, and so we couldn't of been together forever."

"So, you have slept with someone before?" He nodded, lowering himself again, opening his mouth to breathe on my underpants. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, carefully pushing his face away from my crotch. "Look at me for a second. I love you, Clark, and I never, ever wanna hurt you."

"You won't," he whispered, talking into the soft fabric of my silk boxers. "And I can see how much you want me, Please, please, I know how. I'll make you feel really, really, really good."

"Okay, but it's not a good idea for us to do anything out here in the open where anyone can just walk in," I explained, taking him by the hand, and carefully leading him up to my bedroom, closed and locked the door, and carefully peeled off his shirt, pushing him down onto the bed. I watched him pop the button on his fly, unzip and pull his jeans off. Clark got back on the floor, pulled my boxers down to my ankles, and held my cock in one hands, while slowly licking all along the shaft, from base to tip, and back again. "Oh, God," I moaned, as my entire body shuddered with pleasure. He flicked his tongue against my balls and dickhead, lapping up the tiny drop of precut as it oozed out of me. The beautiful farm boy took my entire length into his mouth, his lips sucking hard, rubbing up against my balls. "Clark?" I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, and gripping his face I my hands, while he sucked and licked me. I thrust my hips forward, harder and harder, my eyes still shut tight. Even after I came, and felt him sallow the hot, white fluid, I kept them closed. I was terrified to look down, and discover that the whole thing was nothing but a dream.

"Lex? Lex are you okay?" he asked, nervously shaking me by he arms. I looked down and saw his sweet, beautiful face, looking up at me, his eyes filled with concern. His hair was soaked with sweat, sticking out all over the place, and there was still a single strand of cum hanging out of the side of his mouth. "Did I do that right?" he asked. I nodded, unsure as to whether or not I was actually capable of real speech just yet. He giggled, his firm, perfect body wiggling slightly. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," I said, breathing heavily, as I lowered myself to his side, wrapping my arms around him, kissing the kid's cheeks, and hair. You are so, remarkably beautiful and sweet, and funny, and smart, and nice. Nobody is ever nice to me. Not even—nevermind. I've never been with someone like you. Usually the people I date are women that my father thinks I should marry, and the guys I met at clubs are just—after my money, or my name, or they have no idea who I am but want to fuck me, because…they always say, but…I think I've always been so willing to do whatever you wanted, because you were nice to me, and might fall in love one day." Clark kissed my neck, blowing against it softly. I laughed. "Oh, is somebody ticklish?" he asked, digging his fingers into all my most sensitive areas, neck, stomach, armpits, feet. I let out a loud chuckle, squirming and trying to get away from him. "Uh-oh, what are you gonna do now, hmm?"

"Stop it, or I'll hide your clothes, and make you walk back to the farm in your birthday suit."

"You wouldn't do that. You're too scared that my dad would stick his shotgun in your mouth…or up your ass, he said, and laughed a little. I smiled, using every ounce of strength in my body to push myself forward, and tackling the kid. Obviously Clark saw the move coming; he was twice my size and an ex-football player to boot. I thought about tickling him back, but had already attempted that during a particularly vicious game of pool, only to discover that he wasn't the least bit sensitive to the thing. So, I just lay there, for a while, smiling, perfectly happy to be close to him, knowing that he knew how I felt, and more importantly, that he loved me back. Life was good, for—pretty much—the first time in my entire life. "I love you Lex," he whispered, later, as the two of us climbed into a bubble bath together.

"I love you too, Clark. I love you so much."


End file.
